


among the water lilies (sing to me)

by 3minswriting



Series: Assorted Tales of Water and Scales [3]
Category: NU'EST
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, Human!Minhyun, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, bottom dongho, fossegrim!dongho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28477566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3minswriting/pseuds/3minswriting
Summary: He listens.To the sounds of a carp swallowing its dinner from the water's surface. The crickets chirping. The cicadas singing.And the low, sweet call of a voice, clear as the moonlight that brightens the sky and the waters he stands in."Minhyun..."
Relationships: Hwang Minhyun/Kang Dongho | Baekho
Series: Assorted Tales of Water and Scales [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2083971
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	among the water lilies (sing to me)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year everyone! ended 2020 with BaekMin, felt right to start 2021 with MinBaek. 
> 
> this one kind of went off on its own... ;; my bad

  
  


-

The water is cold when he takes the first step into the lake. It slithers around his naked thighs like the draw of silk cloth, fine hairs prickling with goosebumps with each motion. 

Sharp rocks bite new gaps into his bare feet, tease apart his toes. 

He winces as he walks. A chill rattles his teeth, his spine, so he clenches his jaw. 

The area is cloaked in heavy darkness save for the heartbeat glow of thousands of fireflies, and as quietly as he moves, the lake is far from silent. Crickets gossip in thousands of chirping shrills while their cicada cousins sing to the stars. 

He considers singing too; he would, were he at home, but home now is even louder than here at the lake, and his voice would be swallowed up in that madness. 

There will be time for noise, for song, and harmonies tonight. 

But here, now, he will break the silence only when it is meant to be broken. 

It is a lesson he had learned the hard way, when night after night, his noise caught the ire of the delicate quarry at the lake. Not even a call by name could summon them after the first meeting. 

He had to use other, quieter methods.

Slowly, swinging hands at his sides rotate through the ripples with each step, as though mimicking the ebb and flow of the ocean's waves. Water lily roots tug at his skin, tangle his ankles, wrists, and he stops at the shallows, water girdling his waist.

He listens.

To the sounds of a carp swallowing its dinner from the water's surface. The crickets chirping. The cicadas singing. 

And the low, sweet call of a voice, clear as the moonlight that brightens the sky and the waters he stands in.

"Minhyun..." 

He turns towards the west bank when he feels the motion of ripples lap from the east against his hip. Outlines of a dozen sleeping birds - ducks, perhaps, he thinks, or waterhens - are nestled in the shadows of tall reeds and grey rocks. A bundle of white silk and gold threads lies unfurled among them on the soft grass. The fine brightness stands out among their sleeping forms with the subtlety of a cuckoo hatchling next to its robin siblings.

When he turns again to face east, the water is no longer still. 

Nor is the air silent, for now he can disturb it with his own voice as the other approaches him, "Dongho." 

"You came."

"You asked me to." Minhyun replies, holding out his dripping fingers. 

"I always ask, but rarely- you-" The other's voice catches, a sharp intake of breath and the water churns abruptly east, "-your clothing-!"

Minhyun barely lifts a shoulder to shrug; the corners of his lips, however, rise instantly, sharply. "I thought I should meet you in kind tonight, it only seemed fair." 

"But I have no clothing-" Dongho voices his protestation to the east bank.

"You have no need for it." Minhyun agrees; for what should a water spirit like the _Fossegrim_ want for threads when they remain submerged for their whole lives. It would only hinder their motions as much as the loveliness of their tempting forms from view. That is what the legends he grew up with warned of. Temptation. The allure of mysterious beauty. The danger therein. 

The legends of the _Fossegrim_ , great serenaders of the water, he had been pleased to discover when he first stumbled into this lake two years ago, were erroneous.

He couldn't blame them for making such a mistake.

There were no words, after all, in the tongues of man to describe fully the beauty of the otherworldly. 

_ And if there were,  _ Minhyun thinks as he wades closer,  _ then they would always fall short of the being who stands before him: _

Dongho is drenched in silver, moonlight pouring over the broad set of his shoulders. Water droplets collect at his collarbones as though sweet dew on the edge of a petal and cling to his hair, pink as the lilies that float at the width of his hips. At his chest, his naked skin is only dressed with a single mark of his kind - the curve of an ancient zither. 

It had been that sound which had attracted Minhyun all those nights ago, wandering in the forest. He had lost track of the guards, could barely hear their calls for his lordship over the screech of crickets and the chatter of nocturnal birds. Minhyun had not been worried; they would find him eventually, or he them, and they would return home. 

So he had followed the pull of gentle zither strings until he reached the bubble of lakewater. He could have forgotten the plucked chords, although skillfully played, because he had no talent with instruments and no desire to learn. 

Once he heard the voice that sang that night among the waterlilies and fireflies, however, Minhyun knew. 

It would call him back here.

Just as he now too, returns the favour, 

"Dongho," Minhyun chuckles. He slips his hands around the other's waist, urges him by his slender curves to turn back west. Dongho does so with reluctance, chin down, amber eyes staying pinned to a lilypad rippling near Minhyun's pale side. "You have seen more than this, even in your own kind."

"But they do not look as you do." Dongho says, "...and your people wear coverings when swimming. I did not expect you to arrive-" 

"Would you have me look different?" Minhyun presses his fingertips against cool skin, feels Dongho shiver. 

He drops his hands away and turns to the bank.

The skin is barely curving back from his touch when Dongho grabs for his arms, shaking legs splashing in the water. Minhyun steadies him instantly.

"Minhyun," Dongho looks up at him, but the adoration in his eyes fades into mild annoyance when he sees the smirk Minhyun can't hide. He pushes him instead, "I'd rather you at least present yourself in more a dignified way."

"I left clothes on the bank," Minhyun winds his arm around Dongho, holds him tightly this time, "you can tell me if they meet your standards?"

The water feels colder around him when Dongho presses closer, rougher in comparison to the skin that slides against his.

"Mortals rarely do," Dongho replies playfully, "but since it is you, I should like to give it a chance." 

-

The bank is quiet as he steps onto the grass, hand holding Dongho's. He guides the other's unsteady steps to the spread of white silk. To their left, a duck ruffles its feathers and nestles its face deeper into its wings. Crickets continue their loud conversations as Minhyun seats himself on the cloth, pale legs scattering water droplets. 

"You said you had clothes." Dongho lets his fingers twist, alternating the clasp so that his hand is atop Minhyun's as he's urged to sit, "More of your mortal trickery, I see."

"What do you mean?" Minhyun tugs him down slowly, mindful of how rarely the other uses his legs outside of the water. It is only on nights such as these that Dongho walks, and Minhyun would have it no other way. His free hand at his side pats the white silk underneath him, "This is my cloak," Nods to where a neat stack of clothing sits folded on a rock by the reeds, "and there is the rest."

"I suppose you're telling the truth then," Dongho narrows his eyes, "-this time." 

"So suspicious." His laughter frightens a small squawk out of the nearby birds and they slowly waddle deeper towards the reeds. As they draw away, Minhyun pulls Dongho closer until the other is on his knees. 

"I have to be, with you." Dongho does not sit on Minhyun's lap like the pull invites him to, but instead at his side. He stacks his legs atop one another, knees barely pressing against Minhyun's outer thigh while his gaze wanders to watch the fireflies that fill the air. Parted lips lift in wonderment and Minhyun feels his throat constrict at the sight of him. 

It is tempting - moreso than any legend could have forewarned - to reach for him. To skim his fingers over the tanned skin, follow the curve of defined muscles to the crest of his pectorals that slowly swell and deflate with each breath. To kiss the lips that smile in praise of the beauty of the grotto around them, as though seeing it for the first time instead of thousands. 

"You don't," Minhyun insists, squeezing the other's hand, "not with me. Never." 

Dongho turns amber eyes to his face. Breath stills in Minhyun's chest as the smile the other wears grows wider still. In wonderment, in praise of the beauty of the mortal who holds his hand. Before he can speak, Minhyun places his other hand over Dongho's.

"Dongho-"

"You are late," Dongho looks at their joined hands, avoiding any other sight of Minhyun's bare flesh, "I was waiting for you."

"I know-," He had heard the sweet sorrow being sung as he'd strode through the trees earlier. It slipped between darkness in low oak branches and willow leaf curtains, poetry in an ancient tongue that needed no translation for even Minhyun's mortal ears. The language of longing was universal; his heart sang it, too. "-I heard." 

"Oh." Dongho's shoulders pull towards the stars.

"I came as soon as I could." Minhyun leans closer. "There were things I needed to prepare."

"Prepare?" Amber eyes snap up, brows creasing.

"I'll show you-," Minhyun releases his grip on Dongho, reaches over to the stack of clothing and offers it to him, "-look."

Dongho continues to frown. It doesn't take him long before his curiosity overcomes his fear, just as it had when they first met, and soon the other is unfolding the fine cloth to inspect. Moonlight penetrates the navy shirt as Dongho lifts it up, long sleeves dangling over Minhyun's knee. He lays it carefully before moving to the next piece - black trousers, embroidered with gold thread in the shape of an ivy vine. 

Minhyun watches Dongho's face, the wrinkles in his forehead, between his pink brows. He waits, leans in. His heart is pounding, blood in his ears pumping louder than the call of cicadas and the wind stirring the reeds. 

"Minhyun-" A shirt of lilac is clutched between Dongho's hands, "-I do not understand-" But he reaches for the other piece - trousers, white, shorter than the black. As are the sleeves of the lilac shirt compared to the navy one draped carefully over Minhyun's calf, "why-"

"Dongho." Minhyun's breath shudders in his throat but his voice is clear; it is always clear now, ever since the sprite taught him how to sing. He presses Dongho's hands away from him, to rest against his chest. Lilac fabric obscures the tattoo there, as it will better if it is worn.

He hopes it will be.

Amber eyes find his own, Dongho shaking his head slowly, "You do not mean-"

"I mean it." Minhyun says. "Will you...try it? For me?"

Not for the first time, Minhyun sees Dongho's eyes fill with tears. In their singing lessons, Dongho would tell him of the many stories through the lamenting lyrics of his people. Night after night, under moonlight and the stars of silver above, Dongho would perch on the rocks among the lakewaters, zither braced on his thigh and guide Minhyun's voice to follow each note. Soon the solo songs of sadness became duets of hope, and it is that which Minhyun clings to now.

"Is this-"

"It is no trickery." Minhyun gestures at his naked self without embarrassment, "I come to you, hiding nothing."

"You could have hidden  _ something _ ." Dongho mutters with a half-smile. He looks down at the shirt again, and his wide eyes are hopeful when he asks, "You are sure? Even though I am a-"

"-Dongho." Minhyun laughs, "How many times will you ask before you believe me?"

"How many years do mortals live?" Dongho speaks thoughtfully, "Eighty? A hundred?"

"Around that." Minhyun shrugs.

"Then a hundred times." Dongho pauses, adding, "and one."

"And one?" 

"So that I can stay with you a while longer, yet."

The weight in Minhyun's chest fades, flutters with the wings of the fireflies. He grins, hand reaching to smooth over Dongho's hip and shifts closer. "Then-?"

"I will." Dongho nods. "If you are sure."

Instead of repeating himself, Minhyun leans in and presses a kiss against cool lips. He does not need to question Dongho’s certainty - for the _Fossegrim_ has far more to lose than he, in abandoning the lake that has been his home to live with a mortal, to love a mortal instead of a long-lived partner of his own kind

-he feels it in Dongho's touch, in the sweetness of his sighs, in his gentle moans. His body is still clothed only in water droplets and moonlight, so Minhyun drapes him with kisses as readily as he will cover him in fine clothes once their passion is complete. 

"Minhyun-" 

Of the treasures Minhyun has in his possession, most are tucked away in chests inherited from the wealth of his ancestors. They are precious, they glitter, and they have provided him with the comfort of silk and shelter throughout his life. He has earned little of it through the work of his own hands; such was the life of a nobleman's son.

He had never considered it much, either, content.

Now, as he reclines with a touch of silk cushioning his back, and the motion of silk softer still settled above him, he understands. There is no greater pleasure than that to be found from his own efforts.

"Dongho-" The name is his treasure.

It is the ring that bound their fate, accidentally spilled when Minhyun had tricked the innocent water sprite into giving it freely at their first meeting. He chants it with relish now as Dongho moves his hips, taking him in slowly, deeper. 

" _Minhyun_ -!" Dongho chokes, his face as pink as the hairs curling at his nape. 

His hips swivel, smooth as riverstones under Minhyun's palms, a waterfall of moans trickling from his agape jaw. Minhyun resists the burning impulse to buck, to settle into the slippery coolness of Dongho's willing body. He waits, raised legs bracing Dongho's back and his hands on the other's asscheeks. 

"It's too- you're-" Dongho's eyes flutter as he sits, abruptly, impaling himself on the heat of Minhyun's cock, "hot, so warm, _nnh_." 

His back arches, shoulderblades connecting with Minhyun's knees. He stays there without moving, save for the heavy lungfuls of air that shift his chest. The skin there is littered with new marks, tattooed from Minhyun's teeth, tongue, lips. 

"Can I- are you ready-?" He waits because he knows Dongho needs time, it's why the clothes were sewn a year ago but only sit on the shore now. 

Dongho's eyes open. Slowly, he hunches forward, hands over Minhyun's stomach, bracing himself. 

"Have me, Minhyun-" Dongho murmurs, and he's looking at him with the same look as the fireflies earlier; a thousand times he has seen Minhyun's naked body, from the dusky rose of his nipples, to the strong, slender arms that encircle him, to the long legs that prop him up, to the thick cock that enters him with a shallow, experimental thrust. "- _nnh_ I'm- I'm yours." 

"You're mine, my love, mine-" New words, new litanies that Minhyun will lock away in the vault hidden in his chest. 

Dongho leans back, eases himself into a rhythm and bounces on the mortal's lap. His motions are sure, practiced, steady as the chirping cicadas all around. They know this song, have sung it dozens of times over the years in the secrecy of this grotto. Their harmony ebbs and twists across the surfaces of their skin, punctuated by the slap of their combined weights; pushing, pulling, needing, loving. 

Pleasure flows through Minhyun's veins with each stroke, rushing as though floodplains filling with rain, only it's "Dongho, my love, Dongho- I-" that spills out of him as he climaxes. And like the flowers that blossom when the waters have cleared, Dongho's husky voice bursts out of his throat while his body jerks, tightens, and falls apart in his arms, "Minhyun- please- you- I love you I lov-"

"I know, come for me, I'm here." He does, he knows Dongho loves him. From the darting looks to the warmth of his voice whenever he sang to him from the waters, to now as they lay covered in only each other's embrace and the moonlight, Minhyun knows what treasure he holds.

He releases him as they wander back to the water's edge and Dongho slips into the cold shadows, submerges for a split second.

It's in that moment, when Minhyun loses sight of him, he considers what life will now be for the beautiful _Fossegrim_ ; a life of dry land, of new rules, clothes, in the presence of mortals instead of the fireflies and ducks and fresh water that Dongho had always known until Minhyun arrived.

"Dongho-," His treasure, spoken of in whispers of awe in the township, that would cause an uproar when Minhyun brought him home and announced their union, "-are you...?"

Dongho turns to him, reaches out his hands in offering. Water cascades from his extremities, patters against the lilypads. 

"Do not ask it of me," The water spirit laughs, wrapping his arms around Minhyun the moment the taller man is in reach, "not unless you are ready to ask it five thousand times."

"What if I want to hear it?" Minhyun asks, even if he knows the answer; even if it's why.

Dongho tilts up his head in offering, "-then I will say it, if it pleases you."

Minhyun stoops down, feels a cool hand guiding his cheek as colder lips smile against him. 

"Nothing pleases me more." 

  
  


-

  
  
  


"Why did you arrive naked, truly?" Dongho walks shakily at Minhyun's side. He stays pressed against him, small, nervously eyeing unfamiliar trees and the mossy path that leads towards the calling 'your lordship! Lord Minhyun!' of panicked guards. He is no less ethereal in clothing, and his touch still retains the cool damp that reminds Minhyun of spring rain falling when the sun shines. 

"I told you, to show I had no tricks planned. Don't you believe me?" Minhyun asks, feigning disappointment.

"Not for a moment." 

"If I told you it was a trick, to persuade you further to live with me?"

Dongho laughs, pulling him closer, "Then I would believe it." 

"You have such little faith in me." Minhyun complains.

"I have great faith in the trickery of mortals." Dongho shoots back.

"And?"

"And?" Dongho repeats, tilting his head to the side.

"Did it work?"

Up ahead, the trees thin and the lights of small torch flames will soon make their way over following Minhyun's call out. Before he does, he looks to his beloved, who grins.

"I am yours, am I not?" 

Their joined laughter is a new song, though the love that flows through it is of a harmony far greater and older than the ages of mortals and spirits combined.

"Yes," Minhyun kisses him, "you are." 

  
-

**Author's Note:**

> tysm for reading! comments&kudos are always really appreciated!
> 
> ✦[fic twitter](https://twitter.com/3minswriting)✦


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